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Just InCommunityForumMoreRegrets and Wishes: One More Chance by jnscrtm Anime » Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken/転生したらスライムだった件 Rated: T, English, Hurt/Comfort & Romance, [Rimuru T., Ciel], Words: 104k+, Favs: 190, Follows: 196, Published: May 20, 2022 Updated: Jun 13, 202221Chapter 21: 18 - The Ogres

CHAPTER 18 - THE OGRES

The sky is slowly turning orange.

In a village located at the southwest direction of Lake Siss, lives there one of superior races inside the Great Forest of Jura. An informal collection of clans, together forming a kind of battle-fort home to three hundred—that is the ogres' home.

For a monster village, the ogres' village is already very decent. Their surroundings are clear from filth. Some grasses and bushes have cleanly been cut to create footpaths which connect nearly every house there is.

Their village could be said to be comparable to human villages. Their houses are not simple shacks or shelters like what most of lower-ranked monsters have. Their houses are built from woods and already having a carefully-planned design with each room having its own dedicated functions.

In fact, around four hundred years ago, there once lived alongside them a group of actual human warriors from unknown origin. The warriors came to the ogres' homeland, heavily wounded and seemingly lost in the forest.

By that point, the ogres were a belligerent bunch, more akin to monsters than they were now. But even then, they didn't attack the defenceless. The villagers were suspicious, but the chief warmly welcomed them. The ogres were a high-level race, not too preoccupied about food, so they took care of them.

The warriors were thankful for this. Around the same time, a lesser dragon was rampaging in the forest. Someone among the warriors defeated the dragon as a proof of their gratitude.

They then instructed the ogres in battle techniques and gifted their armour to them. One among them knew how to forge katana-style weapons, and after a long trial-and-error process, they succeeded in producing large number of weapons.

As a superior race, they undoubtedly possess a high level of intellect. It is proven by how they are able to keep their tradition going even after generations, after hundreds of years. Their strength obviously cannot be looked down at either. All of them combined are as strong as a small nation's knight corps—a force equivalent to three thousand fighters trained to the level of B-minus rank.

One can describe these ogres' life style as militaristic. The clans hold battle trainings with each other on a regular basis. Occasionally, they also join this or that side to assist other races when they fall into conflict with their neighbours.

They live as de facto mercenaries. Some of the clans had left some notable marks in the history, forming vanguard forces for one demon lord or another. All of the ogres here, who are currently living in this village, are descended from them.

They've been enjoying a long era of peace, rarely undisturbed by any kind of conflicts. To them, the monsters of the forest were nowhere near challenging enough. And as of late, they haven't even had any rampaging lesser dragons to deal with.

The ogres are doing the usual activities that they would be doing around these times, until an uninvited person comes to the village. He is wearing a beaked mask, a white robe, and a white hat. His left hand was holding a cane.

Some village guards who notice him immediately spring into action, drawing and pointing their swords at him. "Who are you?!"

"I'm the Great Majin Gelmud," the person declares. "I've come to request an audience with your chief."

The village guards squint their eyes, carefully examining this mysterious majin in front of them.

After a long silence without any single movement from either side, the village guards' leader orders one of his team members to report to their chief.

The said ogre ran to meet their chief.

"Pardon my intrusion, chief." He knelt behind the chief who happened to be observing around the village with his son. "I have a report."

"A village guard, aren't you?" A ponytail, crimson-haired ogre turned his face at him. "What is your report?"

"A suspicious majin has come to our village. He said that he had come to request an audience with you."

"Is that it? Very well, I will meet him myself."

"Please, wait for a moment, chief. Does chief not think it might be a dangerous thing to do?" The guard states his concern. "Please at least allow one of us to escort you."

"It'd be no problem," the chief replies. He directly orders his son—the ogres' prince and young master—to escort him.

His son resembles him very much. Their skin tones both have reddish tint and their hairs both have the colour of crimson red. The only difference between them visible at immediate glance is their hair styles: the chief has a long, straight hair tied in ponytail, while his son has a relatively short, wavy hair.

They walk together to the village main entrance area, encountering the said majin who's been waiting for their presence.

"What is your business here in our village, majin?" asks the chief.

"I've come to give you a very great offer."

"Offer?"

"Submit to me and I shall give you names."

"I am sorry," replies the chief flatly with a small laugh. "But we are not really interested in submitting ourselves under someone else."

"If you receive a name, you will get an even higher p—"

"No," the chief insists. "As I said, we are not interested."

"Think ab—"

"Don't you have an ear?!" the chief's son rebuffs. "Father has said no! We won't submit to anyone!"

"Y-you..."

Noticing that the majin is tightening the grip on his cane, the chief and his son assume a battle stance right away in such a perfectly-synced movement. They have their right hands on their sword handles and their left hands on the scabbards, ready to unsheathe their swords at any given moments.

"Alright! I'm leaving!" he curses angrily as he turns around and starts walking away, leaving them. "Let this village burn!"

Some villagers, hearing a shout from the village's entrance, momentarily stop what they are doing and run to the village entrance area, gathering together a few meters behind the chief and his son.

"Don't you think you've taken it too far?" asks the chief to his son without turning his attention from the leaving majin.

"I do not think so, father," his son answers. "He sounded too untrustworthy."

"Indeed, right you are. We can't just swear allegiance to a random person, after all." He lets out a sigh. "But I wish you could choose your words more carefully."

They are watching Gelmud's back as he begins to disappear in the distance.

"All of you, go back to what you're doing." Turning around, the chief disbands the crowd and everyone returns to their activities as he orders them to.

But none of them seems to realize, the moment they turned Gelmud's offer down, this exact hour might be the last hour for them, before the era of peace that they've been enjoying for hundreds of years comes to its end.

...

Inside the town built by Rimuru, Ciel, and their subordinates, some goblinas and a few male hobgoblins, were working inside the public kitchen, preparing and cooking the workers' dinner. The kitchen was quite busy. Sound of knife chopping, hearth burning, water boiling, and people walking here and there dominated the whole building.

A mysterious figure covered in cloak, complete with a mask covering the lower half of the figure's face, suddenly barged into the kitchen.

"Who is that?!" a goblina nearest to the scene shouts in reflex.

"This is me," answers the figure with a memorable feminine voice. She opens the veil of her cloak, revealing her bluish-silver hair and gleaming red eyes. "Or my sort-of body double, you can say."

"C-Ciel-sama?!" The goblina panics. "P-pardon my rudeness! I did not realize that it is you."

"Ah, that is okay," Ciel reassures. "It is also because I am dressing like this."

The goblina lets out a cough. "Uhm...so, what might bring you to us here, ma'am?"

"Please ask your friends to prepare more food. We will have many new guests tonight, more than a few tens, I am afraid. And please also ask Haruna and a few more goblinas to wait in the town's entrance area a few minutes before sunset. Tell them that this is Master Rimuru's request."

"Understood." She bows at Ciel without questioning any further. "Then, I shall convey the words."

"Thank you," are Ciel's last words before she vanishes into thin air.

⁂

Several minutes are left before the nightfall. Every house in the ogres' village begins to prepare for cooking dinner. It goes without saying that it also includes the ogres' royal house—the chief, his son, and his daughter.

The chief's wife died a long time ago, just a few years after the birth of their daughter.

She went into the forest, saying that she was looking for something. After one day one night she didn't return, the chief dispatched four small teams to investigate the forest and spread them to four cardinal directions.

The result was shocking. The team sent southwards found her dead body less than a kilometre away from the village. Her corpse was leaning towards a trunk of tree. She appeared to have received many injuries with the worst being the ones on her chest and her neck. Perpetrator of her death was unknown, but it was crystal clear that she was killed by someone.

The pink-haired ogre, who's currently preparing some ingredients, is the chief's daughter. Different from her father and brother, she has fair skin with a slightly pink tint and white horns that she inherited from her mother.

Suddenly stopping what she was doing, her face becomes so tensed. Her usual composed self is gone.

The chief instantly notices the change in his daughter's mood. "What's the matter, my daughter? It's really not like you to become this anxious."

"Father," she replies with an anxious tone, "it would seem that my extra skill [Danger Detection] has detected a full hostility approaching us in the distance. I could feel a very strong killing intent."

"Killing inte—"

"Chief! We have bad news!" shouts a guard outside of their house.

Chief rushes to their house's entrance. Opening the door, whom he sees are two of the village guards kneeling in front of him. "What's happening?"

"Chief, it would seem that a horde of orcs is heading towards our village."

"The orcs, you say? How many are there?"

"According to our investigators, they number around...ten thousand, sir. And strangely enough, all of them are fully armoured in plate mail."

"Ten thousand, with full-plate armours..." The chief squints his eyes in suspicion.

Orcs wearing full-plate armours, he never heard of anything like this before. And their number is just as ridiculous. But, if there's one thing that he's certain of, it is that the orcs must be intending to attack their village.

"Alright!" The chief begins to give a firm order with a loud and clear voice. "I order everyone to get ready for the incoming all-out battle and gather in front of the village's entrance!"

"Yes, sir!" They begin to run around the village, announcing their chief's order to every villager.

This is most likely what my daughter has sensed earlier. The chief quickly enters his bedroom. He takes his cloak and armour then wears them. Lastly, he hangs his sword on his left waist.

Finished changing his outfit, he exits the house and runs to the village's entrance area, where everyone ready to fight is gathering to greet the orcs.

...

"DESTROY THEM! DESTROY THEM! DESTROY THEM! DESTROY THEM!" A thunderous chant is heard as the orcs march towards the ogres' village, their yellow eyes sparkling with rage.

They never stop. If anything, the hunt for prey makes them go faster. Their comrades fall as the ogres rage, exercising the full brunt of their powers, slashing them apart, caving in their skulls with their swords and axes.

But all it means is that the orcs suddenly have a bountiful supply of fresh meat. They are thrilled, hoping against hope that it would help stave of their hunger for at least one passing moment.

An ogre falls. Several orcs immediately pounce, bathing in his blood as they gnaw at his body. But...ahh, it doesn't work. It fills nothing.

But look, the orcs' bodies are changing. The power of the ogre is now within them. And now, the ogres begin to be swallowed up by the supposedly inferior orc hordes.

Seeing his comrades fall one by one, the chief despairs over how his power can't even protect his own people. Reuniting some of the remaining members of royal guards for a very short amount of time, they form a small team then take their final decision: their prince, their princess, their martial instructor, their weapons master, and two other subordinates who show the most promise must survive no matter what, even if their survival must be paid with his and his team's very own lives.

Charging at full speed, the chief spearheads the team and begins to kill the orcs that they can kill to clear the way and defend the six to the very end.

In the middle of their village that has turned into fiery battlefield, he finds both his son and his daughter facing a giant orc clad in black armour and a figure who wears a mask that look like an angry clown. He leaps over to defend his son and daughter, deflecting the orc's attack.

""FATHER!""

"RUN, ALL OF YOU!"

"BUT—"

"THIS IS MY ORDER AS YOUR FATHER: RUN AND SURVIVE, NO MATTER WHAT!"

Gritting his teeth, the chief's son takes his sister and they begin to run towards the forest.

After a few clashes, the chief's sword snaps, unable to withstand the sheer force of the orc's attack. He gets thrown onto the ground. Not having any means to fight back anymore, the chief closes his eyes and resigns himself to his fate.

...

Just when the orc's weapon is about to touch his neck, something unexpected happens.

A very loud sound of clash is heard. The chief doesn't get touched by the swing. The chief opens his eyes. What he sees is a nearly-transparent green barrier between him and the orc.

Confused, the orc swings again his weapon at the chief. Alas, it is also successfully deflected by the barrier. The clown steps in and releases one of his deadly magic. Yet again, it's successfully nullified by the barrier.

"Hear me." A voice rings in the chief's mind. "From the largest maple tree here, run straight eastwards until you find a huge circle glowing with green colour. Place yourself inside it and wait until everyone who survives has gathered. Quickly! That is, if you want to also survive."

The chief, having no time to think over anything, immediately stands up and rushes to the largest maple tree in the village. From the maple tree, he begins to run straight to the east direction without looking back, as quickly as he can get, just as the voice told him to.

He starts to catch a glimpse of green colour in the distance. It must be the circle that the voice was talking about!

"CHIEF!" "FATHER!"

It turns out that many ogres are also headed to the same place as he, including his son and daughter, meaning that the voice was also heard by currently-surviving ogres. He slows down his run as he keeps getting closer to the circle and finally stops after stepping into it.

Fairly exhausted, he has both hands on his knees to support himself as not to fall onto the ground. His breaths are quick and short.

"Are you all right, father?"

"Just a bit exhausted." The chief lifts his face, looking at her daughter. "Did you perhaps...also hear...'that voice'?"

"Yes, we did. Apparently, the others also heard the voice."

"And how about the others?"

"Those who have managed to run has safely gathered here."

The chief is grateful to hear that.

But a doubt still remains inside his heart. The voice could be a trap to lead them to a place where orcs are ready to slaughter them. Can they really trust the voice? He has absolutely no idea until the voice does something to them.

No more ogres are sensed running towards where they currently are. Only a total of forty-seven who do manage to survive and gather here.

The ground below the ogres' feet begins to glow, revealing an intricate pattern that's previously invisible in the darkness of night. It shines brighter and brighter as each second passes, blinding their vision for a short moment.

When the light has died down, they realize they've moved into a very different place. What lies ahead is a long, straight footpath towards someplace.

"This is...a teleportation magic?" the chief's daughter mutters in a low but audible voice.

"Glad to see you in a safe condition." A familiar feminine voice is heard. Standing in front of them is a figure completely covered in cloak.

"That voice... Could you be...the one who led us here?" the chief carefully asks.

"That is correct, chief," replies the figure flatly.

The chief has to admit that everything about her is weird.

Usually, the more powerful a monster gets, the stronger the aura it exudes. But this figure isn't leaking any aura even just a little bit. It naturally makes one wonder if she actually told them the truth and had the capability to do such things.

However, from that familiar voice and that manner of speech, it must be none other than her. The fact that she has expected their arrival here and knows who the chief is only proves it even further.

"Who are you and why did you save us?" the chief's son steps in without hesitation, causing the chief to feel a bit uneasy, worrying that this figure might feel insulted.

"I? I am merely someone who serves her master. He sent me to investigate the orcs' movement. I happened to pass by your village when the orcs were razing you. As such, I reported it to him and received an approval to save you."

A little bit hesitant and suspicious of this figure, the ogres silently walk behind her to wherever the road might lead them. Where they arrive at is a bright, lively town. They are greeted by two goblinas who've been waiting for them at the entrance.

"Are these the people you told us about earlier, ma'am?" one of the goblinas asks the cloaked figure in a polite manner.

"Yes."

The goblinas turn their faces to the ogres.

"Then, we would like to say welcome to our town, everyone." They slightly bow at the ogres, their right palms in front of chest. "We understand your current situation, but please let us lead you to where you should be resting."

Looking around the town as they follow the goblinas' lead, the ogres are lost in words. A town built in the middle of Great Jura Forest—they never heard of something like this. And the strangest things of all, the most dominant population in this town seems to be...hobgoblins.

Hobgoblins are much lower in ranks compared to the ogres. It's almost unfathomable to them that these hobgoblins are able to build a full-scale town, not just simple village.

But then, they remember. They remember how they were defeated by orcs, those who were supposedly much weaker than them. Unlike the orcs who are generally weak both in terms of power and intellect, hobgoblins, despite their generally weak physiques, are gifted with superior intellect.

Looking at it that way, perhaps it shouldn't be too surprising that the hobgoblins are able to build a town a lot bigger in scale and a lot more organised than their village. That single yet humiliating defeat has opened their eyes, letting them see things in a different way from a different perspective.

Now, they've arrived in front of a big building.

"This will be the place where you can eat your dinner and rest tonight," says the cloaked figure. "I will return to my master's side. So, if you would, please excuse me."

The figure disappears from their sight.

⁂

The ogres finished eating a few moments ago. The dinner time had passed without anyone making too noisy a sound. In fact, the dinner earlier had been a very quiet dinner.

The dirty bowls have been collected and been put on trolleys. One by one, the goblinas in charge leave the building, returning to the public kitchen while also bringing the trolleys with them.

"Yes, my lord?" The last goblina, who's just about to take a step out of the building, suddenly kneels right at her place. For an obscure reason, she talks to herself and nods her head several times. "Understood. Then, I shall convey the words."

She gets up then turns to face the ogres. "We are so sorry, dear evacuees. Currently, Rimuru-sama, our master, still has some businesses to deal with tonight. As such, he will pay a visit here tomorrow after sunrise. For now, please get the rest you deserve."

Turning away, she steps out of the building and begins to push her trolley, heading back to the kitchen and catching up with her friends. As there are no beds and pillows available, they must sleep on the mat.

But that isn't exactly a problem to them. They are all just as exhausted as the chief, be it physically, mentally, or even both. Inside their little hearts, they are all cursing their own powerlessness.

After all, from three hundred ogres there once used to be, there are only forty-seven survivors, all of whom are gathered in this single building. Losing more than four-fifths of their friends, families, and clans—it must've inflicted unbearable pain in their chests.

They are regretting how they couldn't save those precious friends of theirs. Sons and daughters are crying over how they couldn't save their parents, so are parents mourning over how they couldn't save their children. Elder siblings are lamenting how they couldn't save their younger siblings, so are younger siblings bewailing how they couldn't save their elder siblings.

Each and every one of them is thinking of their comrades who couldn't make it alive, recalling every memorable moment that they'd had together in the past, wishing they could turn back the time.

Their night is spent with nothing but a painful silence, spilled tears, and unvoiced regrets.

~TO BE CONTINUED~

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